Anona needs a dress made, and is lucky enough to encounter a dressmaker while out and about.

(This is a thread from Mizahar's fantasy role playing forum. Why don't you register today? This message is not shown when you are logged in. Come roleplay with us, it's fun!)

A city floating in the center of a lake, Ravok is a place of dark beauty, romance and culture. Behind it all though is the presence of Rhysol, God of Evil and Betrayal. The city is controlled by The Black Sun, a religious organization devoted to Rhysol. [Lore]

Anona couldn't help but flinch as the first drops of rain landed on him, even though he'd been expecting it. The cold shocked him a little at first, but as the rain picked up and he found himself in the unfortunate position of sitting helplessly in the shower, he at least adapted quickly after a tick the rain was barely noticeable to him. Fortunately, the rain was light, so although it was solidly inside the annoyance category, he doubted (hoped) that it wouldn't do much harm to the fabric he held at his side.

As Pi started to speak, Anona did as promised, and listened.

It was plain to him after only the first sentence that perhaps he wasn't as good a listener as he'd thought. He tried to keep his face looking calm and interested, while in his mind he panicked. What was he thinking? He was no philosopher at all, had always blocked James out when he waxed poetic about metaphors and the human condition-- shyke, he'd even thought he sounded pretentious! He swallowed thickly and tried valiantly to listen to what Piraen was saying, and to glean some form of understanding from it. As the conversation turned to the rain, the rooftops, the way the drops slid and bounced but almost never fell straight down, Anona looked to the side of the buildings that they passed in the ravosala. Perhaps it was childish, but he thought maybe he could get by without looking like the fool he was if he wasn't looking Piraen in the eye. His mouth pulled down as he tried to make sense of the words, to get any kind of deeper meaning out of what was being said, but it was useless.

When he heard Pi start to backtrack slightly, Anona turned to stop him immediately. "Not at all," he assured him.

I don't understand why you thought of this, or what the point is, he wanted to say, but he couldn't. He couldn't stand the idea of admitting his own shortcomings. And shortcomings they were-- though he was nowhere near understanding the significance of Piraen's musings, he was just smart enough to know that there was something to understand, he was just missing it.

"You're making perfect sense," he finally offered, and a thought suddenly came to him. Perhaps he could interact on some level after all. "Some of the rain does fall straight down, though. Do you think there's magic in those, too? Does that magic decide that this raindrop or that will never hit anything except water, or is all water supposed to fall straight down, and the magic decides that it's going to intervene with some of them?"

Piraen reached out his right hand, dragging a long finger across the water's surface. He let his hand dangle as the ravasola began to glide down the familar canals. They'd be safely inside his apartment within a few chimes, so Pi saw no risk with leaving the safety of the boat. If the creature below was tempted by his hand, then so be it; at least he'd have a nice story to tell afterwards.

Piraen hadn't meant "magic" in the full sense of the word. In actuality, he didn't really mean anything at all. It was one of those moments when he spoke before he fully grasped what he was saying; the statement made less sense the more he thought about it. Apparently, though, Anona found some sense in his words.

"Maybe." Piraen shrugged, pausing as he thought. "I'd like to think that there's a little mission center in the clouds. The drops get their routes, then follow them down to the ground." A strong imagination was essential in The City of Illusion; strict-minded people were eaten alive by the ever-changing streets of Alvadas. Piraen embraced this, always using creative stories to explain the world around him. Unfortunately, Ravok did not welcome creativity and imagination as warmly as his home city. This city loved the strict-minded, and shunned the tailor.

"I would like to think that, but I know better." Piraen laughed lightly, lifting his eyes to the woman. "But there isn't much room for magic here." The man shook his head, then, after a pause, added: "People are too quick to judge the unusual, especially here."

Piraen felt the conversation moving in a depressing direction, and depression was bad for both business and company. Eager to regain the upbeat mood, Piraen sat back up into the boat. He smiled at the girl mischieviously. "So what about you, then?" Pi let the question linger just long enough to (hopefully) pique Anona's curiosity, but not long enough to allow a response. "What oddity are you hiding from the judging eyes of Ravok?"[color=#b2a39b] It was intended to be lighthearted. He didn't except her to drop her life story in his lap; no fool would divulge a true secret to a stranger, specially not in Ravok. Instead, Pi was handing the reins of the conversation over. He was giving Anona a chance to talk about something she knew well: herself.

If a building isn't called a built even after it has been completed, then a thought should be called a thinking even after it's been said.